Poems describing family harmony: Touring Shanxi Village
Song Dynasty: Lu You
Mo Xiao, a farmer's house, is full of wax and wine, and in good years, there are enough chickens and dolphins for visitors.
There is no way out despite the mountains and rivers, and there is another village with dark flowers and bright flowers.
The flutes and drums follow the spring society, and the clothes and clothes are simple and ancient.
From now on, if you can take advantage of the moonlight leisurely, you can knock on the door all the time and night with your stick.
Poems describing family harmony: Summer Pastoral Joy·Part 7
Song Dynasty: Fan Chengda
Farming in the fields by day and planting hemp at night, children of the village Everyone is in charge. The children and grandchildren are still working for farming and weaving, and they are also learning to grow melons near the mulberry tree.
Poems describing pastoral life
The lonely grass grows beside the stream, and the orioles sing in the deep trees. The spring tide brings rain late in the day, and there is no boat crossing the wild river.
The short bulrushes look like shears, keeping the flat sand and gravel in a sieve. Although the love is not tired, I can't live in it. When I come back in the evening, the carriage and horse are tired.
An old friend invited me to Tian’s house with chicken and millet. The green trees border the village, and the green mountains and hills slope outside. Open a pavilion to enjoy the scene, drink and talk about mulberry and hemp. When the Double Ninth Festival comes, there will be chrysanthemums.
The cold mountains turn green, and the autumn water flows. Leaning on a stick outside the firewood door, I listen to the evening cicadas in the wind. The sun is setting over the ferry, and the lonely smoke is rising in the ruins. When I get drunk again, I sing wildly in front of the five willow trees.
Wengjia is located in the scenic spot of lakes and mountains, with sloping paths in the middle of the field under the shade of locust trees and willows. When the water is full, I sometimes watch herons, and there are frogs croaking everywhere in the deep grass. The dragon has overgrown its bamboo shoots, and the wooden pen is still in bloom. Sighing, old friends come and go, who comes to sleep and drink tea in the afternoon.
When the rain accumulates in the forest, the fireworks are late, and the cooking rice is steaming. Egrets fly in the desert paddy fields, and orioles sing in the overcast summer trees. In the mountains, I quietly watch the hibiscus trees, and in the Qingzhai under the pine tree, I fold the dew sunflowers. The old man is fighting for a seat with others, but the seagull is even more suspicious.